The Children of Eternity

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Authors: Kenneth Zeigler
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Christian
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exactly what Satan has up his sleeve, and I know what plans the resistance has to oppose him. Would you believe that there is even a resistance movement in Hell? It’s led by this big dark angel called Abaddon.”
    “The same Abaddon that rescued Serena,” deduced Christopher.
    “Right on,” confirmed Jonathon. “He rescued her mother too, as well as about a thousand other humans in Hell. They’ve built themselves quite a fortress. There is so much here to learn. I just find a thread and follow it wherever it leads. Maybe you could help me. The three of us working together could accomplish so much more than I could alone.”
    “But we’re not staying here,” said Jerry. “We’re on our way to the Holy Place to talk to God.” He paused. “Would you like to come with us? It seems to me that you may learn more from the Father than you could following these threads of yours, even with our help. Then, afterward, you could come back here if you felt you needed to.”
    Jonathon nodded. “Yes, you have a point there. It’s not that far, and I don’t think it’s nearly so dangerous as it was a few days ago. I haven’t spoken to the Father since this all began. Yes, thank you…I think I will go along.”
    The boys made their way to the northeast staircase, a grand marble spiral, one of six, that ran from the ground floor all the way to the highest floor of the magnificent building. They cautiously descended to the ground floor, keeping an eye on the street beyond the huge windows. The streets were empty. To Christopher, that in itself seemed strange. In the eternal daylight world of the City of Zion, the streets were perpetually busy. No vehicular traffic was allowed on these broad streets; they were reserved exclusively for pedestrians. Yes, it took time to get around the city on foot, but who was in a hurry? In a world of true eternities, time was almost meaningless. Anyway, one didn’t become tired. Walking ten miles was as easy as walking one.
    Reaching the ground floor, the boys scanned the avenue beyond to confirm that no one was around and headed out the glass door. The wide marble steps that led down to street level were dusty and cluttered with small debris.
    Jonathon looked across the avenue to see his favorite library largely in ruin. “The library took several direct fireball hits just minutes after I ran into the street. The destruction of all of those books is a terrible loss.”
    “At least you weren’t in there when it happened,” said Christopher.
    “True,” replied Jonathon. “I think most everyone got out when the shooting started.”
    “Maybe, when this is all over, the Father will replace the books that were lost,” suggested Jerry, scanning the devastation all around them. “It looks like this part of the city got hit pretty hard.” He turned to gaze at the Great Hall of Records. It was a monolithic building that stretched for several city blocks and rose over 120 feet above the street. It was an incongruous mixture of tall Greek columns and marble floors, combined with walls that were largely made of thick glass and shimmering metal. He’d been told that this particular metal was called titanium and that it was very light yet strong. All in all, the building had survived the attack very well. A few of the columns had sustained significant damage, and some of the metal framework was dented and the glass cracked, but otherwise it was intact.
    They stepped out into the broad, gold-paved avenue to discover that it was littered with debris, and yes, even traces of blood could be seen here and there. They began the short trek to the Holy Place, ever mindful of their surroundings. The streets were almost deserted. Here and there they spied a shopkeeper cleaning up the mess in and around his or her place of business, or a resident of the city watching them from a window. He took note of one woman restoring a shattered window of her shop with little more than a touch of her hand. Yet it was

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